Musings of a Swordmaster
by Krad-Eelav
Summary: Zihark and his thoughts throughout the game/afterwards. Oneshots. A little bit of everything; humor, angst, perhaps a little romance. Life.
1. Illusions

Zihark did not like Sienne.

The streets were crowded, almost cloying with the various scents of the marketplace weaving in and out of the patrons and the chaos that seemed natural to the city. The scents were strong, too strong with the same demanding edge of attention the shopkeepers haggled with. It was beautiful in some ways with the garish colors complimenting each other strangely, but shallow.

Yes, shallow was the right word for here. For all of its grandeur, he felt far more at home in the desolate peaks of Daein. There was a savage -brutal- strength and solidity in the winters of his homeland, but that was simply the truth. No getting around the truth with the winters coming - here, he felt inundated in layers of half-truths and outright lies. Sometimes they were mildly amusing, with the store owners clearly pulling the wool over newcomers with outrageous prices, but other times...

...other times, the lies cut just as deeply as any sword.

He saw what Begnion tried to hide, and yes, most other beorc countries as well. This largest country in prosperity was also known infamously for the widespread laguz slavery - something he condoned and loathed.

_Can't they see? Some laguz walk about briefly, but always under hood and cloak, and most of them with scars of chains. Don't they realize that there are always ugly truths under those Senators charming smiles?_

Or perhaps they didn't care. He didn't know what was worse - them not caring, or Daein with its atrocious hatred. At least they weren't hypocrites; claiming that they respected the laguz just as well as anyone while owning slaves in the back shed in brutal conditions.

He knew. And that was why he still preferred the cold clarity of Daein to the illusions that were in abundance here.


	2. Smile

Zihark couldn't refuse that bright smile when she asked him to help train her. It was mostly on pure impulse, partly to smooth things over with her... misguided ideas about him, but there was another factor.

He simply couldn't stand thinking that cheery voice forever stilled by the grim carnage of war. She wasn't meant to be fighting here in this forsaken campaign; she should be happy at home working on the farm with her family unaware of the long despairing nights on the muddy roads. Shouldn't have to spend several days on the brink of exhaustion from enemy ambushes, or from an archer's bolt. It took guts to find him all the way across Tellius - he admired that.

But he couldn't shake the nagging thought that it was his fault if she died. What to say to Brom when it was his daughter's blood on the swordmasters hands.

"Alright Meg, nothing too fancy today, just show me what you can do with that lance, eh?"

He dodged to the side, easily missing the knight's halfhearted slash with the stick-turned-lance. Instead of resignation, she set her shoulders and tried again, stabbing again at his legs, even as it was knocked aside by his own "sword": another piece of wood half the size of the lance.

"Come on, I know you can do it! Don't worry about me: pretend I'm the enemy charging you!"

Zihark attacked first this time, checking his speed -partially to salvage her pride- and was pleasantly surprised to see her counter neatly back, and even attempt another stab at his shoulder. Blocking that blow, he spun around to aim at her exposed hand, just to hear a rap on the other shoulderplate as she stabbed again. The lance skidded off, but her face was a mixture of worry, concentration, but delight that she had hit him. Zihark didn't have the heart to tell her that a professional swordsman would have killed her several seconds ago, when there were all sorts of holes in her defenses.

"Wow, great work there!"

"That- that was easier than I thought! Golly, fightin' is going to be a snap now." She was practically beaming, holding the lance tightly,

He gave her a half-smile, knowing the truth. War was anything but easy.

"Course, in a real battle, you'd be facing off against at least three more foes, all of 'em better armed and ready to kill. You'd have to worry about where your commander is, and protecting your friends, but not at the cost of your own life. It's messy, fighting is."

She wilted.

"I think I liked farmin' better; everything was so much simpler. None of this... do and die." The harsh impact of the battles so far were beginning to show their toll - he could see the sleepless nights in her eyes.

"None of us like this. Not even the enemy." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Truth be told, those Begnions would probably rather be at home too with their family. But in the meantime... we have a duty to do."

She nodded, but her heart wasn't in it yet. Doubts surfacing that had seemed so distant before - was this really what she wanted? Could she ever go back, knowing that she had killed, something else entirely than what most farmers ever knew.

"But there's one thing more important than your duty, Meg."

She looked up at the warmness in his tone.

"Fight for your friends. They're what really keep you alive and sane."

"I.. think I can do that, Zihark."

He smiled at her determination. She'd make it through, he knew.


	3. Justice

**A/N: **I wrote this a while back ago as a section in a FE roleplay with a friend; it's basically my take on the whole Izuka/Zihark drama in Radiant Dawn. Writing quality may not be quite as good since it's been a year or two.

Contains quite a bit of violence/angst, so be warned.

_ If I could, I would save each and every one of these laguz. But it was too late. Instead, I endured the slaughter in stoic silence, hoping that as their bodies faded, that they at last had peace of mind. I saved every scrap of rage, savoring the anger, hiding it behind an ice-cold will to be unleashed when I met him. My smile was cold, cruel, something that no one else should see. She always thought the best of me, but contrary to what she thought... I did have a dark side. It was impossible not to want justice - revenge- for this. I felt hate, sheer hatred at these crimes, and mentally calculated what he owed to them. The scales were wanting, Justice was coming with a cold edge, and it would be done with my hand. _

Three red dragons barred my way as I stood in front of them easily, breathing shallowly. Their maddened eyes rolled as they slowly ambled towards me, preparing to breath their legendary fire.

_Astra_!

Green trails of fire erupted from me and my blade as I traveled with inhuman speed to the first one, leaping up to strike a mighty blow in the center of his skull. As the dragon screeched, two more strikes finished him off. I barely hit the ground when the other two pounced on me, their red fire searing hot. I rolled away, batting away the persistent flames, and manage to wound one of them. He retreated slightly, respecting a worthy foe despite the madness.

"Chained... you are chained in Izuka's shadows. Come, I will free you.. and grant you peace at last." I whispered, that emotionless shell of my heart froze even more as I saw the dragon struggle with resisting the druid's orders. He knew it was suicide matching my blade.

"Let's end this." With that, I ran forward, the sunlight glinting off the edge of my blade as I hurled it deeply into his armored chest, blood spurting all over myself. His death cry rang throughout the swamp, as his proud eyes glazed over, his head thudding near my boot. I stood there, panting from the exertion, and from the minor blood loss from several scratches - I had no idea where they came from, and I didn't care.

I knelt, my hand reaching out to close his eyes. What legends might he have sparked if Izuka had not stolen his life? What kind of life and legacy might he had?

"Peace, brother. May your dreams be filled with light..."

I stood, quickly retrieving my sword. There was no time left. I had to act quickly if I wanted to spare any more lives.

_ If there's three dragons, then he must be close by... _

No sooner than I had thought that, I saw the glimmer of dark magic fending off some hapless soldier. The soldier fell without a sound as the dark magic covered the whole area with darkness, and a cold, damp feeling.

"Izuka!" I called out loudly, as the druid whirled to face me. "Izuka the Cruel, you are the author of this vile atrocity against nature? What gives you the right to perform your vile works on the laguz?"

At last. I smiled. At long last, Justice would be done.

Izuka fiddled with something in its hands, glaring balefully at me. "The sub-humans are the perfect subjects! What could be wrong with using them?"

_Its_ words filled me with an instant rage that I had not felt in a long time. The fire seared through me, filling me with fire and an uncontrollable desire to destroy it completely. So he truly thinks he is not doing anything **wrong**?

A flashback briefly distracted me for a second - it was _her_... the one I could never have been with, no matter how much I loved her. The pain would have driven me to my knees any other day, but for this moment, I was able to hear her words as clearly as anyone.

_Her back was turned towards me, that tail twitching slightly in a manner that showed concern. Her voice, when it at last came, was soft, but held the wisdom of ages._

_ "Zihark... I know that you care for us all. I know there is pain and hate in this world, hate against all manner of creatures created by the goddess. Even when you want to fight those ignorant creatures, never let anger and hatred get the better of you. That is the road to destruction, not life. Please promise me this, at least... "_

_ For a brief moment, she turned, the side of her face masked by the sun's rays, but I could see that gentle smile, that -_

The swampland destroyed that vision, peaceful woodlands morphing into rotting trees. The fetid water was a mirror of the morals of the thing that stood in front of me. Slowly, I straightened, not a trace of emotion in my eyes as I stared down the quivering mass of dirt. My eyes looked towards the heavens, as I whispered.

"She always told me not to let anger and hatred get the best of me, not to let them guide my blade."

A pause. Then my eyes snapped back to its - the vermin was staring at me oddly; I could sense a sliver of fear oozing out of it.

** "This will be my only exception."**

The rage and anger and hate flowed back to fill that deadly calm, sweeping aside my heart of ice. There was only destruction, only vengeance to fulfill, only blood to satisfy my blade.

I laughed, not once, but a bitter mocking laugh that went on and on as I walked towards him, slowly at first, but faster as its hands darted to form a spell. He launched it at me with surprising quickness, but I dodged it easily, coming closer. It stepped back once, seeking to get away, but oh, if only he knew the strength of my justice. It recoiled from my maddened grin, somehow sensing how badly I wanted to rend him limb-from-limb.

"Come, feel your sins. Feel what it is like to have life leeched away from you."

I darted forward then, right before another dark spell blasted through the area where I was. It was strong, stronger than it had the right to be, but my speed gave me the advantage. My silver blade sliced once, slicing through the cloth of its sleeve as he stumbled back, wielding a cursed stave. He blocked my slices a few times, but I wasn't really trying. I was toying with him, savoring the growing fear as it stared into my heartless eyes. I felt my wide smile now, as I stepped forward, my sword ruthlessly biting deep into his arm. He screamed, a pained cry that I relished. This was only the beginning.

"Now you know what it feels like, don't you... "

"Y-y-you! Get away! I know you! Don't come any cloaaaAAAAAAA_AAHHHH_!"

The exclamation did not merit a verbal response. However, I gladly stabbed my blade into his side, taking care that it was not fatal yet. Another scream echoed even louder as blood seeped through his cloak. it writhed like a worm on the end of a sharpened stick, voice petering out in a pitiful wail.

"This is what you did to THEM!"

My eyes glittered with satisfaction as I ran the blade through his middle, twisting it to maximize the pain and the agony. Great gouts of liquid and some flesh poured out as it tried to suck in air to scream with. I savored each gasping scream, each plea to stop - oh stop the pain -No, you deserve every bit of this, you -

I knelt closer to him, not in kindness like with the dragon, but so he could still see me clearly, even as blood leaked out of his mouth, and his eyes bulged out. Fear emanated from him in waves, fear that I gladly caused. Fear and pain and hate and anger... No words were needed as my bloody hands wrapped around its throat, doing the job myself. Slow and agonizing, yet satisfying as I pressed down even harder, my cold smile the last thing it saw.

It was a long time before it ceased struggling, and it flopped back like a rag doll, its breath ceasing as the deed was done.

** Done.**

Justice was repaid. Sins atoned for.

A long silence was the only thing that I heard in the glade, matching the nothingness in my heart. I felt nothing now, empty, now that my mission was done. All of the hate had abruptly died out to ashes. Not even the cold ice-hate remained, just ashes, and the mutilated corpse in front of me. Disgusted, I stood back, examining my bloody hands, not even bothering to wipe them on the corpse's cloak. The sword, however, I did, watching mutely as the blood slipped off easily. So red, the blood. So vibrant.

I wasn't sorry for what I did, though in the back of my mind, I knew that what I had just done was considered extreme torture. It deserved it, every second of it, and I half-wished to do it all over again. But the past was the past, and what was done was done.

A sigh. I took a long sigh as I turned away, facing the swamp with clear eyes, now free of the haze of hate. Already, the past moments seemed like ancient history. My footsteps echoed as I limped, away from the corpse, away from the darkness surrounding it.


End file.
